


let me see you stripped (down to the bone)

by tjm07



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Implied Brittana, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjm07/pseuds/tjm07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>between 4x12 and 4x14, and a few hours after 4x14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me see you stripped (down to the bone)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what to say so i'm just going to leave this here. 
> 
> title from 'stripped' by shiny toy guns just because the song has been stuck in my head for forever
> 
> i have no beta so all mistakes are mine
> 
> enjoy!!

Quinn shouldn't be surprised when she gets the first phone call from Santana after their trip to New York. 

She thought the call was just a one-time thing, a way for Santana to kill time. Santana's not good at not complaining, and Santana complains plenty about how boring Louisville is and about how the tight-knit group of girls on her squad think she's a bitch. 

Which is why she's surprised again when she gets a second phone call from her a few days later.

The third one doesn't throw her as much.

She makes the fourth call herself.

/

Quinn's roommate doesn't stop looking suggestively over at her every time she hears her talking to Santana on the phone.

Quinn's not above knocking every one of her teeth out with a hammer. She's not.

/

Santana asks her if she's going to Mr. Schue's wedding, and she can feel her hold her breath for a moment before Quinn says yes.

"Cool," she sighs, and Quinn feels like there's something Santana's not telling her.

/

There's a small group of Glee (and ex-Glee) kids crowded outside the chapel by the time Quinn gets there, Finn shepherding them in. She spots Santana standing under a tree, smoking a cigarette, eyes red and fixated on something over her shoulder. 

/

It's the unspoken thing between them that makes them find each other at the door and slip into a pew together. 

She sees the way Brittany's gaze lingers on Santana for a second too long before Sam wraps his arm around her and something in her mind slots into place.

/

Ms. Pillsbury doesn't show up. 

She holds the mirror up to her face and reapplies her lipstick before heading out to the reception.

/

Quinn Fabray is a lot of things, but there's one thing she's not: a closet homosexual.

That doesn’t stop her from appreciating the way Santana’s red dress dips and curves in all the right places.

/

They share a secret smile before clinking their glasses together again and Quinn already feels a little dizzy, a little out of control.

/

Quinn’s hand has a mind of its own; her fingers brush Santana’s arm, her hair, her knuckles -

She waits for Santana to tell her to stop, to slap her again, to do something –

But she doesn’t.

/

In fact, Santana does the one thing Quinn didn’t really expect her to do – she has a hard time remembering what that was when Santana pins her to the door of their dark hotel room, latching onto her throat. Her lips feel different – softer than she’d expected, for a girl with words that could cut through flesh and bone. Santana's tongue slips between her lips and it tastes like alcohol, the way Puck's did the only time they'd had sex.

But this is different somehow, even if she is as drunk as she was that time she slept with Puck. It's simpler with Santana - they’re both single, both lonely at a wedding where everyone's happy and with someone – well, everyone except for them.

/ 

She lets herself sink back into the pillows when Santana's done with her, boneless and giddy. Santana straddles Quinn's hips and Quinn gets a faceful of cleavage, supple flesh topped with nipples black as beads.

Santana's eyes shimmer as she slips Quinn's hand past her waistband.

/

Round two is much slower than round one.

Round one was hot, wild - Quinn can't remember much of what happened, only how it felt. Round two is just the opposite. Santana takes her time now, burying her lips into Quinn's flesh.

It's just then that Quinn realizes the light is on, and she remembers the stretch marks she'd hidden for so long, and the scars on her thighs from the accident last year. She squirms under Santana and Santana stops moving. 

"If you don't want to do this just say so and I'll stop," she whispers against Quinn's neck.

"It's not that," Quinn stutters, "I just want to - don't want you to see -"

"Shh." If Santana knows what she’s talking about she doesn’t say so, just pulls Quinn’s bottom lip into her mouth and sucks on it a little before moving down. She brushes her lips over Quinn's right nipple and runs her hands all over Quinn's stomach, tracing the tiny white lines lightly. She tugs Quinn's underwear off slowly, her eyes turning dark as they run over her body. She threads her fingers through Quinn's before pushing them between Quinn's legs.

"Touch yourself for me," she whispers.

Quinn's done this a few times before in her life, but never with someone watching her. She's a little sensitive from before so her legs jerk a little while she moves her fingers, and she's still feeling a little smothered because  _stretch marks_ , and  _scars_ , and other things she doesn't want Santana to see - but Santana's lips fall open in a cute little  _o_  and her breathing becomes harsher and Quinn tries to stop worrying.

Watching Santana watch her so intently makes her wet, and she bites her bottom lip to stop the sounds from escaping her. She's about to come when Santana gently pulls Quinn's hand up to her lips and tastes her, right off her fingers.

Before Quinn gets a chance to complain Santana starts kissing her way down Quinn's belly. Quinn blanks out for a second before trying to pull Santana back up.

"Where are you going?"

She feels Santana look up slowly, her body stiffening. 

"I don't know you just - you taste really good, alright? And I like it when – if you don't want me to do that I'll do something else." It sounds less defensive and more like a question than it’s supposed to, and Santana rests her chin against Quinn's belly, waiting.

' _Oh what the hell_ ,' she thinks, and gives Santana a small shy nod. Santana grins and shifts till she's resting comfortably between Quinn's thighs, tracing over her slowly with a finger. Quinn's hips jerk again and then Santana's tongue is on her and she makes eye contact and something inside Quinn's stomach swells red-hot and spills over, making her head snap back. 

Santana laps at her heavily, once, twice, before putting her mouth on her and sucking in. Quinn traps the sounds she wants to make in her throat, choking a little as they try to slip past her lips. Santana's hands are scorching hot against her skin, and her mouth is even hotter and it's not long before Quinn comes, back arching, Santana's eyes never flinching away from her face.

/

Santana tucks Quinn's head under her chin, after, her fingertips tracing circles into Quinn's hip. Quinn opens her mouth to say something but is stopped by Santana's lips against her temple.

"Please don't complicate this by speaking, Fabray," Santana says, and Quinn can't help but chuckle against the base of her neck.

/ 

Santana's arm is wrapped around Quinn's waist and Quinn can tell she's sleeping by the way her breath hits the back of her neck.

It's not too long before Quinn dozes off herself.

/

The sun creeps in through the small gap in the curtains and Santana yawns loudly behind her.

“Good morning,” she mumbles, before stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom.

/

Santana makes coffee for both of them and hands Quinn a cup with some creamer, sitting on the edge of the bed. She takes hers black with a little bit of sugar, Quinn notes.

"How'd you get here?" 

"I carpooled then took the bus." 

"Well well well, when did  _you_  get so eco-friendly?" Santana smirks a little, but it's not malicious.

"Shut up."

/

Santana offers to drive her back to New Haven. Quinn's about to say no when Santana stops her with a hand on top of hers.

"Listen, I don't really want to be around Berry and Kurt right now. You'd be doing me a favor."

/

Santana waltzes into the shower first and waltzes back out dry and stark-naked twenty minutes later. She plops down on the bed and picks up the remote.

Quinn eyes the hard, smooth planes of Santana's stomach, back, and thighs and unconsciously compares them to her own soft belly and chubby thighs.

When she gets out of the shower she wraps her towel tight around herself, making sure no part of her body remains uncovered for long.

/

They walk out of the hotel room together, hand in hand, earning a few sidelong glances from their old teammates as they stroll into the lobby. 

/ 

Santana's a surprisingly careful driver. 

They're quiet for the entire trip, but it's a familiar silence. Quinn dozes off for a while and wakes up when Santana hesitantly threads their fingers together, brushing her thumb over Quinn's knuckles.

The sun goes from yellow to pinkish orange and paints the sky darker. Quinn sighs and leans her head against the window.

/

Santana slows to a stop and Quinn's about to get out before Santana squeezes Quinn's hand in hers. Quinn halts and spins slowly in her seat.

Santana shakes her head a little before she speaks. "I just want - thank you. For this weekend. For being a friend."

Quinn says nothing, just leans in to kiss her on the cheek before Santana turns her head a little into it until their lips meet. It's a friendly peck, nothing more, and Quinn pats Santana's hand before turning around to leave. 

She sticks her head back in before closing the door.

"I'll see you around Santana."

"Let me know when you come down to New York," she drawls, winking before driving away. 

/

The next morning, Quinn fiddles with the scarf around her neck, wrapping it tight and avoiding her roommate's eyes. She picks her backpack up and slings it onto her shoulder, strutting out the door without a second glance.

 

**Author's Note:**

> leave some feedback yo  
> thanks


End file.
